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GLIMPSES 



A Book of Verse 

BY 

DELPHENE JOHNSONE 



Copyriiht Applied for 1921 



Press »f 

Sherman Printine fsf Binding Ce. 

Seattle. IVash. 












To my sister 

MARY E. STURDEVANT 

I affectionately dedicate 
this book 



SEP Idiijz! 



g)C!.A6244l6 



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This body is a prison house, 
Fastened with bolts and bars, — 

But through its dim and narrow windows, 
We may glimpse the Stars. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Mount Rainier 1 

Questioning 2 

Living Pictures 3 

Man 4 

Song of the Sea-Spirit 5 

The Northwest 6 

Seattle 7 

My Own 8 

Truth 10 

Hindu Love Song 11 

The Caravan 12 

Temple of the Vestal Virgin 13 

Madonnas 14 

My Baby 15 

The Soldier 16 

Communion 17 

Enchantment 18 

Spanish Love Song 19 

A Master 20 

Harmony 21 

The Midnight Sun 22 

The Little Cosmos '. 23 

Man and Nature 24 

Voice of the Sea 25 

Unfolding 26 

Alone? 27 

Parting 28 

Oh Summer 29 



CONTENTS 

Page 

The Birth of Love 30 

Life 31 

Progress 32 

A Reformer 33 

The Universal Ear , 34 

God Manifest 35 

Three Genii 36 

Oh Be Glad, My Heart 37 

Thanksgiving 38 

Threefold 39 

The Fickle Moon 40 

Pretence 41 

Prayer Rugs 42 

The Imagination 44 

The Desert 45 

The Command 46 

Expression 47 

The Young Girl 48 

The Church Bell 50 

Summer Afternoon 51 

Love 52 

You Called My Name 53 

Fate 54 

The Mother 55 

Spring Song 56 

My Love 58 

Maple Trees 59 

Symbols 60 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Waiting 61 

Baby's Fairies 62 

Unspoken 64 

You 65 

A Memory 66 

Remembering 67 

Hope — To My Sister 68 

Service 69 

Thought 70 

Verse 71 

Mystic Memories 72 

Sacred Grief 73 

The Apple Parer — To a Picture 74 

The Nest 75 

Call of the Sea 76 

Do You Ever Think of Me? 77 

The Answer 78 

Somewhere 79 

Autumn Days — To My Brother 80 

The Lament 82 

The Great Adventure 84 

The Master 86 





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MOUNT RAINIER 

Thou art robed in majesty and awe, 
Thou mighty monument of time, — 

Thou art as thy mighty Builder, 
Inscrutable, sublime. 

Deep mysterious silences 

Forever wrap thee round, — 
Thy very stillness breathes a voice, 

Which is the soul of sound. 

What storms and snows of ages, 

Have beat upon thy crest! ' 

What blasting strokes and earthquake shocks 
Have smote against thy breast ! 

What mighty forces strove 'gainst thee, 

In ages past with giant blows! 
We see the chasms and the scars, 

That tell the struggle with thy foes. 

Who poured the burning lava 

In cataracts of flame? 
Who cleft the giant boulders, 

To build thy rock-ribbed frame ? 

Who wrought with titanic fury, 
Tossing like pebbles the continents? 

Who reared these massive piles of granite, 
For everlasting monuments ? 

1 



QUESTIONING 



The world's a show, we're the moving pictures, 
Amid its dizzy whirl and strife, 
Unwinding from the reel of time, 
And thrown upon the screen of life. 

What does it mean, life's passing show. 
Of comedy and tragedy and woe? 
What Master Mind conceived the plan? 
Does he play and toy with the heart of man? 

What does it mean, life's passing show? 
What is the goal of all this struggle, 
Who may know? 

What is man seeking, what is his quest? 
Is it laid upon his heart to find no rest? 
Is he to be forever unsatisfied, unblessed? 



LIVING PICTURES 



I know the surges of the seas, 
Their mighty tides flow in my veins, 
I know the towering mountain peaks, 
And their heart of seething flames. 

I know the cycle of the Stars, — 
When time began, were we not one? 
And ran we not our courses 
Around the Central Sun? 

I know the Present and the Past, 
All time and space, — duration's span, — 
The fingers of the centuries have etched 
With living pictures, the Soul of Man. 



MAN 



Man is an epitomy of the Universe. 

In his soul are registered Creation's Mighty Epics. 

Fire-mist, star-dust are the substance of his brain. 

The impact of the worlds, the surges of the suns 
Were the mighty dynamos that charged his veins 
with fire. 

Above, beneath, transcending all, there breathed 

the Soul of a Mystic Power, — 
An Infinite brooding Spirit, steadily drawing the 

seething molten masses toward a Luminous 

Center, — 

And lo ! the Heart of Love glowed crimson within 
the white flames of the world's Vortices. 

Stars and suns in their eternal march. 
Declare the majesty of Man's inheritance, 
And reveal the omnipotence of his will. 



SONG OF THE SEA SPIRIT 



I love the sea-girt mountain rocks, 
I love the restless sea, — 
The oceans are my flowing robes, 
Behold their majesty! 

I love the wild storms on the coast, 
When the maddening Sea wind mocks. 
When Sea Gods ride their plunging steeds, 
And drive them on the rocks. 

Their white manes streaming out to sea. 
They, rearing, plunge, and strain to reach, 
And strike with terror and with death. 
The peaceful pebbly beach. 

I love the wild wind's stinging lash. 
As she smites the angry waves, — 
When demons of the Storm King race, 
From ocean's deepest caves. 

The groaning ship, they heed her not, 
They wrench her keel and tear apart 
Her heavy beams and oaken ribs, 
And strike at last her heart. 



THE NORTHWEST 



Thy mythical land of the setting sun, 

Visioned in dreams by men of old, 
Where mountains of treasure bordered the sea, 

And sands of the rivers ran gold. 

Their visions and dreams at last have come true, 

This glorious land of the West, — 
With unlimited wealth of minerals and ores, 

By Nature's abundance is blessed. 

Where hemlock and fir, where spruce and the pine, 

Great giants of centuries grow, 
Where wheels of commerce are turned by the 
streams 

Flowing down from mountains of snow. 

Where wealth of the Incas already is stored. 

In mountain, in forest and sea. 
Awaiting the people of the Northwest, 

To claim, Nature's rich legacy. 

Far Eastern countries are hasting to send. 
Rich freighted cargoes over the seas, — 

The port that is nearest their wonderland 
The Northwest, is waiting these argosies. 



6 



SEATTLE 



Seattle, city of the Seven Hills, 

Guarded by mountains and the sea, 

The shining gateway for the Orient, 
Whose commerce waits on thee. 

The land of spices, frankincense and myrrh, — 
She brings her treasures at thy need ; 

No Potentate of old e'er held the keys 
Thou hold'st for thy meed. 

"With today already walks tomorrow," 

Shadows of great events appear, 
The prophetic heart discerns and listens, 

With understanding ear. 

Deep in thy heart the will to do and dare. 

Which is the heritage of youth ; 
Thine eyes upon the goal, thy courage high, 

Though seek'st for the truth. 

Seattle, of thy treasures thou wilt spend, 
Nor count all gain the shining pelf. 

Nor count it loss that thou should'st freely give 
Thy best, which is thyself. 



MY OWN 



The sun is sinking in the ocean, 
Slowly his glories fade away, 

Far beyond the new world's evening, 
Slowly is dawning another day. 

Are you waiting for the dawning, 

In that land so far away. 
For the morning of the evening 

That has closed this summer day? 

It may be, that you are weary, 

Longing for the bright sunrise, — 

Little thinking I am gazing 
On the fading sunset skies. 

On the last faint rim of brightness, 
Slowly dropping out of sight, — 

So I call to you, good morning, — 
You may whisper back, good night. 



8 



The crested waves are dashing high, 
Their mighty roar is in my ear, — 

The merry throng move gaily by, — 
But should you whisper, I shall hear. 

Across the boundless, trackless blue. 

My spirit softly calls to you. 
But not in language which the ear 

In its coarse mould of clay can hear. 

Oh ! 'tis the chord of love that binds. 
In heaven or earth, harmonious minds, 

And by that charm, itself divme. 
I call you, and I claim you mine. 



TRUTH 



This world of ours unrolls its scroll, 

And man discovers line by line, 
New meaning in its marginal notes, — 

New lights upon its pages shine. 

Man searches for the truth, without, within,- 

Truth's nucleus is in the soul ; 
Thoughts are the electrons that ever flow, 

To join the Universal Whole. 

Man offers to the world his thought, 

That he has coined from out the whole, — 

And so it is that each one gives, 
A grain of truth from his own soul. 



10 



HINDU SONG 



I carry my Love in my heart, — 

I have not looked upon his face 

In earth life, 

But the eyes of the spirit are clear, 

And discern his countenance of truth. 

The silence between us is full of speech, 
And vibrant with song, — 
What need have we for words? 

Speech is communion, and lives in the heart, 
Words are but breath, and die upon the lips. 



11 



THE CARAVAN 



A waste of yellow shifting sandy dunes, 
Like rolling billows of the sea, — 

That caught beneath the spell of tropic moons, 
Lay wrapped in mystery. 

Against the dim horizon line of blue, 
Like shadows trailing 'cross the skies, 

A caravan came slowly into view, 
Bearing rich merchandise. 

Afar there rose upon the burning sands, 

An oasis of waving trees, — 
The faithful Arab raised his yellow hands, 

And fell upon his knees. 

He cried to Allah and his voice rang out. 
Then sank at last in reverent prayer, — 

The burdened camel as he heard the shout. 
Scented the distant air. 

With eyes intent upon the darkling green. 

The caravan moved slowly on, — 
The gorgeous trappings of the train were seen,- 

It passed at early dawn. 



12 



TEMPLE OF THE VESTAL VIRGIN 



We see in fancy through the dusk of years, 

The sacred flame that ever burns, 
Within those ancient dim mysterious walls, 

In gold and silver urns. 

A Vestal Virgin clothed in spotless v^hite, — 
She would that all forget her name, 

But ever in her breast a memory burns, 
As she attends her flame. 

Unwittingly she wanders, half-distraught, 

And passes the forbidden room, 
Where holy incense breathes upon the air, 

And lilies bud and bloom. 

The gorgeous tapestries and statues rare, 

Half hidden in the mellow light, 
That falls through rich stained windows, and that 
rests, 

On priestly altar, draped in white. 

And one before the altar bows his head. 
She hears his voice in anguish pray, 

Then she remembers, and her dry lips moan. 
As silently she steals away. 



13 



MADONNAS 



All mothers are Madonnas, 
And the angel of the Lord 
Appears to each and every one. 
His brooding love enfolds her, 
His ineffable glory hallows her. 

The very substance of her body 

Is transmuted into finer clay, 

And in her veins the Fire Divine — 

Carrying heavenly manna 

For the nourishment of her soul, — 

Glows in white flame. 

And burns all dross away. 

Henceforth she knows, and feels herself 
Co-worker with the Infinite. 



14 



MY BABY 



It's a long, long distance through the stellar 

spaces, my little bird, 
How did you find the way, straight to my heart, 

where a little nest was waiting? 

Speak softly, — 

Was It the little nest that drew you, the soft, 

warm nest that Love and I together 

builded? 

When all was ready, then I called to you, and 
God let you come. 

I was far away from God before, but now I feel 
Him near, since he wrought for me this 
miracle, — 

This miracle of love's fruition. 

Crowning my womanhood ivith glory, — 

Oh, my Baby! 



15 



THE SOLDIER 



A pale Cross glimmered 

In the western sky, — 

My eyes too earthly to behold it, 

His clear vision saw the mystic sign, 

And its radiance shone upon his brow. 

He pointed to Old Glory 
Waving on the distant battle field, 
And whispered — 
"My country, — tell them, — I go 



)j 



The mystery of the stars was in his eyes, 

And his boyish brow was haloed 

"With that light, that never shone 

On Land or Sea," 

As he marched forward gallantly 

To meet the King, 

And render up his last account. 



16 



COMMUNION 



As prophets and seers of ancient days, 

Entered the Holy of HoHes, 

To commune with the Infinite, — 

So may we, of today, enter the Sacred 

Silence 

Of the Most High,— 

Glimpsing the Ineffable Glory. 

These are days of exaltation. 

For which it seems all other days were made. 

The senses are quickened, — ■ 

The Heart opens the portals to the 

Inner Temple, 

And sits before her shrine, — waiting, — 

The silence deepens, — 
The world becomes luminous — 
The divine meaning of Life — 
The Gift of Love- 
Floods the Soul with radiance. 
While upon the Heart are breathed, 
Thoughts unutterable. 



17 



ENCHANTMENT 



A low hung moon 'neath southern skies, 

Flecked gently by fleecy clouds, — 

The radiance of the evening star, 

Shed luster on the swinging shrouds, — 

The shadowy shore, the shimmering sails, — 

Enchanted world of Arabian tales ! 

The glimmering light on sail and spar, — 
The languorous charm of moon and star, — 
The enfolding arms of the brooding skies, — 
The lure of lips, and voice and eyes, — 

The sluggish swish of yellow waves, 
Sweeping the sands it softly laves, — 
Swaying the boat to rythmic beat. 
Timing the steps of dancing feet, 
And eyes were bright, and lips were sweet. 

* * * * 

Oh enchanted hours of joy and pain, 

Oh remembered kisses, I may not know again. 

Oh low hung moon, oh evening star, 

How distant and how cold you are ! 



18 



SENORITA 

Spanish Love Song 

I tossed to her a rose, 
The rose was red, — 
A symbol of my love, — 
I laughing said, 
And called her from her sweet repose. 

Her hair as black as night, 

Her brow of olive hue, — 

Her eyes like stars 
That looked into the heart of you, — 

Her glance so fleet. 

Her smile so sweet, — 
My trembling heart w^as at her feet, — 

Senorita ! Senorita ! 

I pressed upon her warm red mouth 

A lover's kiss 

Half pain, half bliss, — 
Was ever lover's night like this? 

Senorita ! Senorita ! 



19 



A MASTER 



A Master is he, — 

Who searching in the depths of harmony to find 

the tones that chord with his own being, 

and having found them, — 

He paints a Masterpiece 

He writes a Symphony, — 

He sings the Songs of the Nations. 

And his work shall stand as an everlasting monu- 
ment, — 
For is he not a Master, and has he not spoken, 
Face to face with the people? 



20 



HARMONY 



The air with incense sweet perfumed, 
Breathes benediction's holy fire, — 
And were our ears but finer tuned. 
We could hear the heavenly choir. 

God sets no bounds to time and space 
Man has limited himself to years, — 
But tune thy heart to Nature's rhythm 
And thou shalt hear the music of the spheres. 



21 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN 



A blinding dazzle of cold, brilliant light, — 
'Tis the land of the midnight sun, — 

And grewsome shadows trail over the snows, 
Where grim gaunt teams of huskies run. 

Long icy fingers are clutching the throat. 
White death stalks abroad in the land, 

Hurrying phantoms of black-muffled forms, 
Are seeking escape from his hand. 

The long, hissing lash swings over the dogs. 
They answer with whine and with moan. 

Oh ! the cold terror that's gripping the heart,- 
And ever that brilliant light shone! 

Staggering forward the faithful dogs run, 
Their red mouths are dripping with foam, — 

The drivers no longer shout at the teams, — 
And ever that brilliant light shone! 



22 



THE LITTLE COSMOS 



The seed planted in soil of earth, 
Produces after its own kind, 

Not always so the seed that's dropped, 
Into the human mind. 

Each brain, itself a little world, 
With its surrounding atmosphere. 

Seems the center of things to be, — 
Itself the prophet, and the seer. 

Each little world with satellites, 
Revolves around the central sun. 

Which is the Universal Mind, — 
The mind of man in cycles run. 

And each receives what is his own, — 
Tho' life be short and time be brief, 

Each ever strives to bring the world 
To his own standard of belief. 

Many will preach to thee, and thou. 
Wilt often scofif and doubt, — 

What thou lack'st within thyself. 
Thou canst not find without. 



23 



MAN AND NATURE 



Man and Nature, antipodes of Spirit, 
In harmony, yet seem diverse. 

Each supplying what the other lacks. 
To build a universe. 

Man and Nature, antipodes of Being, 
Nature the body, man the soul, 

He carries in his heart the memories, 
The records of the whole. 

'Tis vain to boast man conquers Nature, 
He draws his life from her full breast. 

Always when he understands and loves her, 
She yields to him her best. 



24 



VOICE OF THE SEA 



In the depths of your harmonies, 

What voice is it cries to my soul? 
Is it from the green caves of the ocean 

Where billows of harmonies roll? 

Where mermaids and sea-nymphs are singing 

The songs of the wild Lorelei, 
Do they beckon, and call me to keep, 

My tryst with them under the sea? 

Oh ! glint of red corals, — Oh ! foam of green 
waters, — 

Oh ! glimpsing of sinuous bodies that play, 

O'er rocks irridescent — the Sea-Maidens' daugh- 
ters, — 

They're calling for me, — they're calling today. 



25 



UNFOLDING 



All space is filled with God's own love, 
And life is Love's divine expression, 
Unseen these mighty forces move 
In one harmonious succession. 

And all things are created new 
For him, whose faith beholding 
In every error, still the true. 
The diviner life unfolding. 

Deep spirit growth is born of doubt, 
And man by his own heart is shriven. 
God in the soul, sees God without. 
Each heart holds its own heaven. 

These old grey mile-stones on the way 
No longer mark our joy or sorrow, 
And what is truth for us today 
We may leave behind tomorrow — 

For the soul's Ideal changes, 
Tho' truth itself can never change, 
The Soul but moves to higher ranges 
Of God's oivn thought, tho' new and strange. 



26 



ALONE? 



To stand alone beneath the stars, — 
To feel their mystery, 
And the mystery of the night, — 
The soft, warm palpitating night, 
With its brooding darkness. 

Alone beneath the stars 
I wait, — I listen, — 
I know not why, — 

Does some sweet presence beckon me? 
Does some sweet memory call to me? 

Alone? — I am not alone, — 

The Voices of the Silence whisper me, 

And mine own thoughts do keep me company. 



27 



PARTING 



A moment tarry, oh grey-haired Time, 
Too swift speed the hours away, 
Morning scarce dawns ere the evening chime 
Rings a knell for the dying day. 

And have the spring and summer flown, 
So soon, so soon? Alas ! too true, 
The dearest hours that I have known, 
I leave them all behind with you. 

Where e'er the twilight hours shall fall. 
With purple shades, and sparkling dew, 
My heart will still this eve recall, 
Remembering pleasures past and you. 



28 



OH! SUMMER 
Song 



We bade adieu with smile and tear, 
And lilt of song, the passing year. 
We watched the bud and bloom of flowers. 
That marked our path through the summer hours, 
'Oh! summer, rosy tinted summer!" 



(</ 



No skies can ever be so blue. 
As those I wandered 'neath with you, 
No verdure softer for our feet. 
No bird song ever be so sweet. 
"Oh! summer, radiant blooming summer!" 

Be calm my heart, let not your sighs, 
Cloud all the brightness of the skies, 
Somewhere the skies are ever blue. 
Somewhere love's heart is always true. 
"Oh ! summer, fair but faded summer !" 



29 



THE BIRTH OF LOVE 



It was the morning of the world, 

When Time himself was young, — 

When all the stars of heaven in ecstasy together 

sung,— 
That Love, Immortal Love was born. 
She sprang full-orbed and radiant into being, — 
Potential with the destinies of worlds. 
She knew her mission — to create, — 
And her wide extended arms 
Emht'aced the universe. 



30 



LIFE 



Thought is the masculine principle of life; 

Love is the feminine. 

Thought sends continually throughout the uni- 
verse, unlimited multitudes of germs of life. 

Unless love conserves and cherishes these 
thoughts, 

They die for lack of vitality; 

For Love only is the vital principle of life, 

And gives to thought Immortality . 



31 



PROGRESS 



Manners, customs, ideas change, 

And man rebels, 
Thinking he loves to cling 
To his old moorings. 

But it is not so. 
A subtle law urges him forever on, — 
And those whose grip on crumbling forms 

Seem to retard the progress 

Of the world,— 

They are the fulcrum upon which the lever 
Of advancing thought must rest. 



32 



A REFORMER 



It is only when deep sympathy 
And imagination unite, — 
Striking into flame 
The sacred convictions of the heart, 
That there appears before the world 
A reformer, — 

His heart, charged with the living issue, 
Is the mighty dynamo 
From which others receive 
Their motive power. 



33 



THE UNIVERSAL EAR 



We breathe into the Universal Ear, 
When e'er we think or utter speech, 

Who hears our thought we may not know, 
Or gauge its bounds or utmost reach. 

Thought spans the ages, knows no barrier, 
And reaches those to whom 'tis kin, — 

Who hearing it, with reverence whisper 
A heavenly voice that speaks within. 

Thought is spirit, words are symbols. 
Impotent to express the whole, — 

'Tis the inner ear that listens 
To the language of the soul. 

The wisdom of the world is ours. 
It pulses through the atmosphere, — 

Sages of the past have spoken 
Into the Universal Ear. 

Oh! mighty power of human thought. 
Embracing time and distance far, — 

Truly we are the sons of God, 

We know not how divine we are. 



34 



GOD MANIFEST 



We worship God through myths and symbols, 

And cry like children for a sign, 
Our hands must handle and our eyes behold, 

The Eucharist of bread and wine. 

Why should we rail against the heathen, 
They seek for God in their own way, — 

And find the symbol of their worship, 
In graven images of clay. 

The people of far Eastern lands, 
To them the sacred symbols are, — 

Revealing Allah's love and power, — 
The Crescent and the Star. 

We of the Western world in worship kneel, 
And strive to cleanse our hearts from dross, 

The Holy Spirit like a dove descends, — 
We bow before the Cross. 

God manifests himself through all the ages, 
Answering the people's need and will. 

He speaks through calm, through storms and 
tempests, — 
And whispers, peace, be still. 

There is but One, he ever dwells within, 

And those whose vision sees afar. 
Like holy men of ancient times, 

Before them moves the Star. 

35 



THREE GENII 



There is only one way, by which we may enter 
into the life of another, and put ourselves in 
his place. 

That way is through the great door of the imag- 
ination, — beside whose shining portals, sit three 
Genii, — Sympathy, Insight, Appreciation, 

These three are Immortals, — they give to us the 
Magic Key, that unlocks the innermost re- 
cesses of the human heart, allowing us to enter 
its sacred sanctuary, where the light of under- 
standing illumines the mind, — 

And thus we are able to judge of motive instead 
of action. 



36 



OH BE GLAD, MY HEART 



Oh be glad, my heart, 

Rejoice with thy might, — 
Thou hast found the Pearl of great price, 

And He whom thou sought 

Was seeking for thee, 
Knowst not 'tis the Blessed Christ? 

Adorn thyself with his righteousness, — 

His love and sympathy, — 
In serving others, shalt thou be blessed,- 
In giving peace, shalt thou find rest, 
For all the world, thy kindred he. 



37 



THANKSGIVING 



Thanksgiving is the overflow of joy in the heart, 
Life may be one perpetual thanksgiving simply 

for the joy of living, — 
For life was meant to be joyful. 
And to be joyful, — tho unexpressed in words, — is 

to be thankful. 



38 



THREEFOLD 



Man is a threefold being, 
Body, Soul, and Spirit, 

To each he owes allegiance, 
From each does he inherit. 

Body is elemental. 

And all the stains of earth, 
Cling ever to its garments. 

Revealing its strange birth. 

Soul and Spirit, Love and Light,- 
Divine we feel ourselves to be, 

May not this hope itself foretell 
A Noble destiny? 



39 



THE FICKLE MOON 



The young Moon lies in the golden west, 
Rocking the old Moon on her breast, — 
Her arms of silver gleaming far, 
Coyly beckons the Evening Star. 

Radiant flushes the v^estern sky, 

Where rifted cloudlets scattered lie, 

Like gay-v^inged birds just poised to fly, — 

The young Moon smiles, then breathes a sigh. 

The Evening Star so calm and high. 
Haughtily lists the Moon's low sigh, 
He loved her once, alas too soon. 
He found her but a fickle Moon. 



40 



PRETENCE 



When ladies go wooing, beware of their eyes, 
Their weapons are only soft glances, and sighs, — 
Their errand of Love, they seek to disguise. 

They're skilled in Love's Magic, daring and sweet, 
They only attack by pretending retreat, — 
And if you pursue, you're sure of defeat. 



41 



PRAYER RUGS 



These gorgeous rugs from Temples of the East, 
That may for centuries have lain, 

Before the sacred altars of Unknown Gods, 
Who listen not in vain. 

What skillful fingers wrought the shining threads. 

In deftly woven patterns fine ! — 
Upon them pilgrims loved to kneel and pray. 

Within the templed shrine. 

What wonderous stories could they tell to us, 
If tongue were given them to speak, — 

Repentent Magdalene, heads bowed to earth. 
Peace and forgiveness seek. 

Or those of haughty brow and selfish will, 
Who only work and pray for gain, — 

Or some bereaved and broken woman's heart, 
That cries for ease of pain. 



42 



It may be sad bewildered feet have trod 
Upon these rugs, and longed to pray, 

All too late repentence walked beside them, — 
Time hastened on his way. 

The faithful devotee of Eastern lands, 
Lifts up his face to greet the sun, 

And prays, oblivious to the outer world, 
That Brahma's will be done. 

And when upon the shifting desert track, 
And whirlwind storms are in the air, — 

The Brahman spreads his rug upon the sands, 
And lifts his voice in prayer. 



43 



THE IMAGINATION 



The Imagination is the border land, 
Between the Ideal and the Real, 
Between the Unseen and the Seen. 

It is that mystic realm. 

Where all thought lies in potency. 

Where heart and brain unite. 

Where Ideas are conceived, 

And where they lie embedded in white light. 

Until the alchemy of thought 

Transmutes them into living things. 



44 



THE DESERT 



The great spaces of the desert, 
Where mystery forever broods, 

Where man is counted but as naught, 
In these vast solitudes. 

Where voiceless silences find speech, 
Forever whispering through the air,- 

Where mocking visions blind the eyes, 
And bid the heart despair. 

Where caravan's slow trailing lines. 
Drag like a serpent o'er the sands,- 

Where Time himself forgets to move. 
And folds his pulseless hands. 



45 



THE COMMAND 



The Spirit came to me, 

And thrust between my fingers 

A pen of fire, 

And whispered, ''Write." 

I said, "What shall I write?" 

He answered, 

**The Spirit of man 

Is given to know all things, — 

Write what so e'er thou wilt." 

I said, "I do not understand." 

He answered, 

''Search among the archives of thy soul. 

And read the records that the centuries 

Have hidden there, — 

And thou shalt glimpse the story, 

Of the making of the worlds." 

"For is not the soul of Man, 
The scroll, upon which is written 
All the history of the Universe?" 



46 



EXPRESSION 



Man has always struggled to express, 
In outward form the inner vision, — 
He paints, he carves, he builds. 

In faces of the Madonnas, 

He shadows forth his thoughts of Love, 

In the forms of the Venus, 

He sculptures his thoughts of Beauty. 

In the great stone features of the Sphinx, 

Man of ancient times. 

Carved in rugged uncouth lines, 

His thoughts of Mystery. 

In the wide spaces of the desert. 
Stand the tombs of Egypt's Kings, 
The colossal Pyramids, — 
Were they not builded to express, 
Man's thoughts of Strength and Power? 



47 



THE YOUNG GIRL 



As Eolian harp, swept by unseen fingers, plays 
the music of the winds, catching the lightest 
zephyr wafted by, and trembling at the breath- 
ing of a sigh ; — 

So She, her nature tuned to finer song, and finer 
thought, listens to strains diviner than those 
that reach the common ear of clay. 

She lives in realms of fancy, enchanted land — 
just on the border of glorious womanhood. 

What wonder that she sits apart, her eyes veiled 
with mystery, dreaming the hours away ? 

Is she not gathering wisdom in the depths of 
her own soul? 

When sad, the quick tears spring like April show- 
ers, and all the world is one great tragedy. 

When gay, her laughter rings like silver bells 
and all the world is rainbow-hued, seen through 
the prism of youth and joy. 



48 



Ever the future lures her, ever the forces of the 
universe conspire to draw her on; — Is she not 
the mystical embodiment of brooding love, the 
center of all things, the potential Mother^ 

And holds she not within her wondrous body 
the destinies of worlds, and mighty races yet 
unborn? 

In her soul and body are blended, the Sacraments 
and the Sacrifices of the world. 



49 



THE CHURCH BELL 



In the dark church tower the great bell tolls, 
And the hands are sad that ring it, — 

From the organ loft a song floats out, 
And the lips are glad that sing it. 

The song of the singer pleases the ear, 

The toll of the bell strikes the heart with fear. 

A penitent bows at the chancel rails, 
Her young face is shadowed with care, 

The holy father in pity bends low, 
To hear her confession and prayer. 

From the organ loft floats down the song, 
And the great bell tolls, so long, so long. 

Many sweet voices are swelling the choir, — 
Now anthems of joy make fragrant the air, — 

Many are kneeling at altar and shrine, 
Forgetting life's sorrows and care. 

The harmonies blend and roll as one voice, 
And the great bell rings rejoice, rejoice. 



50 



SUMMER AFTERNOON 



The sunshine lay upon the hills, 
In shimmering lines of gold, — 

Far down the west, the purple clouds 
Were lying softly fold on fold. 

The languid breezes half asleep, 

Scarce murmured to the nodding trees,- 

The branches lower leaned their arms. 
And lightly held the drooping leaves. 

On heavy wings the birds flew low, 

In wavering circling lines. 
Or refuge sought from summer's heat, 

Among the cooling darkling pines. 

A breathless stillness in the air. 
As tho an unseen presence came 

And passing, left behind a scent 

Of trailing garments tinged with flame. 

As evening came, the golden Day 

Sank gently down in Night's embrace. 

He spread his dewy mantle soft 
And covered o'er her blushing face. 



51 



LOVE 



Love is the coin of the heart, 
And we grow rich by giving. 

And those who never loved 
Know not the bliss of living. 

For all love is divine, divine. 

And knows not youth, or age, or time, 
But seeks its own and knows no rest 

Until is ended its holy quest. 



52 



YOU CALLED MY NAME 



You called my name, — I answered. 

But you did not hear. 
I beckoned — ^you turned aside 

And would not see me near. 

I cried to heaven, — 

This answer low and clear, — 
"Speak softly through the silence,— 

If he loves you, he will hear." 



53 



FATE 



Oh ! those dark, dark slumberous eyes, 

In whose mystic depths, I read my fate, 

With love too deep, too passionate, — 

I must have known you e'er the light 

Of this world burst upon my sight, 

I must have loved you in some fairer clime, 

Pressed you to my bosom, and called you mine. 



54 



THE MOTHER 



The Mother is the mystical embodiment of love, 
Within her heart the secret of creation lies. 
And the great Architect of all the worlds, 
Has chosen her to be his Master Builder. 



55 



SPRING SONG 



The blithesome Spring in joyous mood, 
Flings fragrant blossoms everywhere, — 

Sweet hyacinths and mignonette 
And violets perfume the air. 

The mystery of the greening trees, 
In nature's magic loom is found. 

The sunshine shimmering through the leaves 
Weaves lacy patterns on the ground. 

In tree tops tall where lightly swings 

The mother bird upon her nest, 
The soft winds breathe a lullaby 

To birdlings 'neath her downy breast. 

Gay butterflies on gorgeous wings 
Are happy in their new found power, 

They spurn the earth from which they came 
And revel in their golden hour. 



56 



The creeping vines cling to the trees, 
And hold them in a close embrace, 
The gossamer webs sway in the breeze 
Like bits of filmy fluttering lace. 

A wondrous artist is the Spring, 
Her palette splashed with dyes, — 

She paints the lily and the rose. 
With borrowed tints from sunset skies. 

She weaves with threads of magic hue, 
Her flower embroidered, jeweled gown,— 

She blends the sunshine with the dew, 
And spreads her emerald carpet down. 



57 



MY LOVE 

To L B. R. 



My love is like the sweet spring time. 
That's fragrant with the rose, 

My love is like the spicy wind, 
From Ceylon's Isle that blows. 

My love is like the summer time. 
Blooming with colors rare. 

My love is like the cadences. 
Of holy psalm and prayer. 

My love is like the autumn time. 
When harvest yields her store. 

Of golden fruitage rich and full, — 
And can I ask for more? 



58 



MAPLE TREES 



I know a group of Maple Trees, 
Whose ardent lover, the Western Breeze, 
Boldly kisses their fluttering leaves. 

He brings them tales of sunset land, 
Where giant fir and pine trees stand, — 
Their spreading roots lie in the sand. 

He tells of mountain fastness high, 
Whose hooded peaks reach for the sky, — 
Above their heads the eagles fly. 



These Maples Trees are young and gay. 
They toss their arms and dance and play 
To rhythmic measure all the day. 

At night, so calm and still they seem, 
I think they nod, and sleep and dream 
Beneath the starlight's tender beam. 



59 



SYMBOLS 



He hears, whose heart is listening 

For the harmonies, 

The sweep of wings. 
He sees, whose eyes are searching 

For the inner light. 

The Soul of Things. 

But to the eyes of sense alone, 
The Universe is only known 
Through symbols. 



60 



WAITING 



My heart is waiting, 

The inspiration of your love 

To give it speech, — 

That it may voice the burning thoughts 

That long have cried for utterance. 

Without your love and sympathy 

My heart is dumb, 

And meaningless are words. 



61 



BABY'S FAIRIES 



We lay beneath a flowering shade, — 
And it was only yesterday, — 

Within a lovely sylvan glade, 

Where I'd been told, the fairies played. 

A glamour o'er the scene was cast, — 

The flashing of a wing, — 
The fairies of the wood were there, — 

They danced in magic ring. 

Oh Baby mine. Oh Baby dear, 

I saw you dancing with the rest, — 

I softly called, you did not hear, — 
Oh do you love the fairies best? 

They spun the sunshine from your hair, — 
Your fragrant breath perfumed the air,- 

Where glanced your starry eyes so blue 
Upon the green, the violets grew. 



62 



The fairies crowned you for their Queen, 
And lay the scepter in your hand, — 

For it's a legend on the green. 

They choose their queen from Baby-Land. 

So light and airy did they seem. 
So swiftly, gaily did they pass, — 

All may have been a summer's dream, 
Or shadows playing on the grass. 



63 



UNSPOKEN 



Hearts hold music that can ne'er be sung, 
And vain were all our skill to teach, — 

And eyes have language that the tongue 
Can ne'er interpret, so dull its speech. 

What need were spoken words? — how vain 
For lips to utter what the eyes 

In their mute language speak too plain, 
And need not even low replies. 



64 



YOU 

To 



When Memory brings the past before me, 
And tender thoughts of you steal o'er me, 

My lagging pulses bound anew, 
Time's busy hands seem lulled to leisure, 
The very landscape smiles with pleasure. 
Birds time their songs to sweeter measure, 

And leaden skies give way to blue. 



65 



A MEMORY 



There's a careless smile upon my lips, 
Tho tears are dimming my eyes, 

I laugh as the merry jests go round, — 
Tho my heart is trembling with sighs. 

Your voice is calling through memory's hall 
Waking to life, one summer's dream, — 

Again I hear the row-locks play. 

And see the splashing waters gleam. 

The distant chiming of evening bells. 
The good night song of a far off bird, — 

Soft tender notes on the vibrant air, — 
And dearer than all, a voice I heard. 

Only a dream from the golden past, 
So dear, so sweet, so cold at last. 



66 



REMEMBERING 



Does ever a breath of olden days, 
Sweep over your soul with joy or woe, 
And touch a chord that wakens the lays 
We sang in the time so long ago? 

Long ago, did I say — Time flies. 
And hurries us on toward the Main, 
Tho we may weep our fondest hope dies, 
Broken asunder life's dearest ties, — 
Our tears and our prayers are they vain? 



67 



HOPE 

To My Sister 

Your face is turned toward the East- 
Not the west where the sun goes down. 
And the shadows fall, — 
But toward the glorious East, 
Symbol of life and love and hope, — 
And on your countenance is shining 
The glory, and the radiance 
Of the rising sun. 



68 



SERVICE 



To grow in grace is to grow beautiful 

In mind and spirit. 

And we grow in grace, in just so far 

As we minister to the joy 

And well being of others. 



69 



THOUGHT 



Thought is the beginning. 
It lies behind all speech and action, 
It is the source from which all things proceed 
It is the mighty power that conceives, 

Creates and builds. 

World nebula contains within itself 
The germ of all material forms, — 
Thought nebula is mightier far, 
And is potential with the Soul of Things, 



70 



VERSE 



Love is born 

Of joy and pain, 
Sweet pain, without which no love can be,- 
Then say not Dear, that you regret 

Pain's ecstasy. 



71 



MYSTIC MEMORIES 



Has the spirit birth in some mystic clime, 
Where softly falls the silvery chime 
Of hours, that mark no flight of time? 

The air perfumed by unseen censers swung, 
Steals softly through my waking dreams, 
Until my waking, dreaming seems, — 
I list to songs by unseen singers sung. 

Why should my trembling pulses beat 
With vague regret, as tho in days, 
Long vanished into purple haze. 
My life's sweet dream had been complete? 

And oft I hear when sad and lone, 
In cadence sweet, a whispered tone. 
That thrills my heart as tho' I'd known 
Its love tones in some summer land. 
And I feel the air grow pure and sweet, 
As I hear the fall of viewless feet. 
And feel the clasp of an unseen hand. 



72 



SACRED GRIEF 



A sacred grief none should intrude 
With words of consolation vain, 
There is for woe a solitude, 
Where memory loves to sit and brood, 
And 'tis in vain we would delude 
The heart from feeling its own pain. 



73 



THE APPLE PARER. 

To a Picture 

Oh! Peasant woman of the calm high brow, 
What may your thoughts be — are they sad? 

Are you remembering today a vow, 
That one time made you glad? 

You sit in high backed chair beside the fire, 

A bowl of apples on your knees — 
It may be that some noble, high desire 

Has given you hearts-ease. 

Your open Bible in the light is seen, 

Upon a table at your side. 
It seems to be the staff on which you lean, — 

Oh ! may its peace abide ! 

The sunshine streaming through the window low 
Falls softly on your spinning wheel, — 

And many tangled threads of life we know. 
Time winds upon his reel. 



74 



THE NEST. 

A slender willow drooping stood, 

Just beside the river's brink, 
It bent its boughs as tho it would 

Of the sparkling waters drink. 

I saw a bird among its leaves, 

And heard her twitterings soft and sweet, 
She built her downy nest that day, 

And at the eve 'twas all complete. 

Another day I stood beneath 

The slender willow drooping low — 

I heard no happy singing bird, 
But only plaintive cries of woe. 

The fallen branches on the ground. 
And withered leaves told all the rest, — 

A mother bird with broken wing, — 
The birdlings gone, a rifled nest. 



75 



CALL OF THE SEA 



My dwelling place is on the shore, — 
But, oh, the ever calling sea ! ' 

Its restless beats are in my heart. 
Its surging tides of me are part, — 
It possesses me. 

When first I heard the Siren's voice, 
My soul cried out in answer, — 
I fell upon the sands and wept. 
With joy or fear, I know not which, 
Each held sway v^ithin my breast. 

Suddenly there swept beside me, 

A phantom form of irridescent mist. 

With streaming hair blown backward by the 

winds, 
With long v^hite arms of trailing spray, 
That waved and beckoned and drifted out to sea. 

Oh, woe is me ! Oh grief is mine ! 

I cannot follow where my heart would lead ; — 

A face forever in the mist I see, 

And long white arms that beckon me, — 

A voice, a voice is ever calling me! 



76 



Song 
DO YOU EVER THINK OF ME? 



Do you ever think of me 
In your hours of toil or rest? — 
Do ever come sweet thoughts 
Of one who loved you best? 
Of one who loved you best? 

I know not where you are, 
Upon the land or sea, 
But this one thing I know, 
You will come back to me. 

You will come back to me. 

The richness of your love, 
Soothed every pain and woe, 
But if you loved me not, — 
Thank God I did not know. 
Thank God I did not know. 



77 



THE ANSWER 



Her slender fairy fingers flew, 

Like white winged doves among the keys, 
From out their magic depths she drew 

Such sounds, my rapt soul never knew. 

I heard the low, sweet trilling note 

Of far off bird at even tide, 
I saw the purple shadows float 

'Round mountain peak and river side. 

I felt the rush of golden hours, 
That hurried by on unseen wing, 

I caught the faint perfume of flowers 
That fanned the rosy cheek of spring. 

At last she struck one long, sweet tone. 
And all the meaning of the rest, 

In that one note, her love expressed, — 
It answered me, she was my own. 



78 



SOMEWHERE. 



Is there a tear upon your cheek? 

You promised not to weep you know, — 
One little word, oh could you speak, 

And tell me that I need not go ! 

'Tis well, we'll smile and say goodby. 

The purple shadows deeper grow. 
The light is fading from the sky, 

The evening breeze is sighing low, — 

Oh pray the morning may dawn fair, 
God willing we shall meet somewhere. 



i 79 

I 



AUTUMN DAYS IN IOWA 

To My Brother 

Gorgeous colors robe the forest, 
Gay as were the summer dyes, 

Nature's breathing purest incense 
'Neath the soft October skies. 

And a hazy veil is floating 
O'er the far off wooded hills, 

While a breath of seeming summer 
All the air with perfume fills. 

Nature's pulses bound as lightly 
As tho balmy spring so sweet, 

Laden with a wealth of flowers 

Were strewing them beneath our feet. 

For October waves the scepter 
O'er the magic loom that weaves. 

All the glorious hues of spring-time 
Into rustling autumn leaves. 

And the tapestry seems rivaling 
All 'twas wove by summer's bloom. 

As busy unseen fairy fingers, 

Throw the shuttle through the loom. 



80 



And we catch the fleeting music 
That the woodland echo brings, 

And our brows are soothed as gently 
As tho fanned by fairy wings. 

There is harmony in nature 
When our hearts are all atune 

We may catch the thrilling music 
Breathing as through leafy June. 

Ah, this sweet October weather 
Has a mystic charm for me, 

How all nature now seems joining 
In one last grand symphony. 

But I feel a cloud o'er shadows 
All the landscape's golden sheen, 

As my heart recalls the summer 
That has vanished like a dream. 

Tho that summer time is ended, 
Still a halo round it dwells, 

For my heart is keeping tally 

With low chiming Memory Bells. 



81 



THE LAMENT 



Sitting in the Autumn twilight, 

Dreaming of the olden time. 
Memory bells are softly ringing, 

As I listen to their chime; 

Calling forth the past from shadows. 
Sorrows, pleasures, smiles and tears, — 

Oh my heart gives back each echo. 
Ringing from those bygone years. 

Long ago the summer sunshine. 

Faded from my heart away, 
Life's sweet dream, alas was broken. 

All my idols turned to clay. 

Withered hopes like leaves of autumn. 

Drift along the path I tread. 
Those who were my own, my dearest. 

Now alas to me are dead. 



82 



Blooming flowers have lost their sweetness, 
Summer skies are dark and drear, 

Vanished are the charms of music, 
No melody my heart can hear. 

Waiting for the angels calling, 
Listening for the boatman's oar, 

Longing for the light of morning. 
Dawning from the other shore. 



83 



THE GREAT ADVENTURE 



They questioned his soul while his body slept, — 

What of the great adventure of life? 

From whence came he, and whither bound? 

He answ^ered, — 
"I know not whence I came, I only felt my heart 

was flame within the bosom of Infinity. 
"Whither I go, ah, who may know?" 



i( 



A voice came wandering from far spaces, call- 
ing my name, 

I needs mtiM answer, — " 

And then ? — 

"And then a falling star, leaving behind a trail 
of light." 

"Soft luminous darkness swathed me round and 

round. 
Deep silence vibrant with sound, 
A sinking down into the depths of Being, 
A sleep — a dream — a sweet forgetting, — " 



84 



And then? 

"And then a great white light, and in its depths 

a flickering crimson glow — a spark — a 

a flame! 
The urge of life was on, — the famished cry for 

life, — more life. — " 

**And she my Mother, 

Holy Priestess of the Flame, gave of her heart's 
blood, drop by drop, to feed the spark of 
life within her bosom, that love had kin- 
dled there." 

''Time passed, — a change, — a shock, — a rending 

of earth's foundations, — " 
And then? — 
"And then a babe with startled cry was ushered 

into birth, to answer and to satisfy th^ 

need and call of love on earth/* 



85 



THE MASTER 
Prose Poem. 



It was the Master's genius to express in music 
the intangible essence of nature. 

He was in close harmony with nature as all rare 
spirits are. 

He absorbed the light, the shade, the mingled 
colors, the sound, the silence, and trans- 
lated them into terms of music. 

His improvising appealed to the imagination like 
delicately perfumed flowers, or rather, 
there was a rare undefined suggestion of 
color and fragrance. 

A rural scene would suggest itself to the mind, 
perhaps a sunset with long shadows wan- 
ing across the mead. 

Soft breezes could be heard sighing among the 
green boughs, and the good-night song of 
twittering birds. 



86 



So full of peace, so tranquil. But the Master's 
moods were variable. 

Suddenly the music would change; a deeper, full- 
er chord would be struck, and the heart 
of the listener could feel the darkness 
gather, while strong winds blew, and 
blending with the darkness and the storm, 
the cry of a human heart. 

That the Master's heart held a sacred love, all 

his music bears witness. 
There is a throbbing undertone of tenderness 

and heart longing, that like a silken thread 

runs with delicate tracery through all his 

musical thought. 

And this is especially true of his Moonlight 
Sonata, which was composed under roman- 
tic circumstances. 

The evening of its composition he had received 
a letter from the Countess B — , whom in 
his passionate love letters he addresses as 
his Immortal Beloved. 



87 



This evening he and a friend were passing down 
the street, and hearing the familiar notes of 
the Sonata, in F, they paused a moment 
under the window. 

The music ceased, and they heard a sweet voice 
within exclaim : "Oh, if I could hear some 
one play this wonderful piece!" 

The voice so full of pathos, so hopeless, touched 
the heart of the master and he could not 
resist the desire to enter. 

They found the player, a young girl, poor and 
blind. 

The Master sat down at the old harpsichord and 
invoking the spirit of music he improvised 
many beautiful melodies, then softly sink- 
ing into a minor key he struck one long 
sweet chord. 

The candle that dimly lighted the little room 
suddenly flickered and went out. 



88 



c 1 1 



The friend threw open the shutters, and a flood 
of moonlight streamed into the room, 
transfiguring and softening all within. 

The light transformed the old harpsichord and 
rested like a benediction upon the noble 
figure bowed before it. 

"Listen," said the Master, "I will improvise a 
Sonata to the Moonlight." 

His soul in unison with the tender love expressed 
in the letter, even then resting upon his 
heart, his delicate fancy symbolized Love 
as the moonlight which has the power to 
illumine and transfigure the dark earth. 

Thus was created that beautiful work of musical 
art, filled with chaste subtle voicing of the 
human heart. 

We recognize in the Master a High Priest minis- 
ttXring to the multitude at the sacred Shrine 
of Music, for he listened to the Voice with- 
in, and translated into harmonies the divine 
message that God had given him. 



89 



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